


Hiding in the place where lost things go

by ParadiseFalls03



Series: One for sorrow, two for joy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, boys finding each other, coping with loss, im bad at tagging, sad but hopefull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseFalls03/pseuds/ParadiseFalls03
Summary: Do you ever dreamOr reminisce?Wondering where to findWhat you truly missWell maybe all those thingsThat you love soAre waiting in the placeWhere the lost things goA story of two lost boys that find each other
Relationships: Harry Potter/George Weasley
Series: One for sorrow, two for joy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554217
Kudos: 18





	1. G is for grief

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I am really growing quite fond of this pairing. Sorry if this is sad. I’m planning three chapters, I believe. Then, my plans never go accordingly.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading❤️

It has been a month since the end of the world. People everywhere are still celebrating, and they don’t see it. Because a month ago was the end of the war, too. And when a war ends is a good thing, a great thing. A war that ends is worthy of a month of celebrations. So he understands, if they don’t see it. If they haven’t noticed how the world crumbled a little in the process.  
He doesn’t blame their excitement towards a future that can finally start. They still wear the war on their skin, faint tokens etched onto faces that have seen too much to forget. But relief has stretched worry-lines into smiles, bringing the light back to eyes that have been tired for far too long. No, he doesn’t blame happiness, he understands. He understands if they don’t notice that some people carry the war a little deeper than the surface. That for some people the war will never truly end because for others the war was The End. 

Happiness brings people together, it’s a collective feeling that you want to share. Pain, on the other hand, is selfish. In pain the only world that you have is your own. And a month ago, for him, the world has ended. His world has ended.  
They knew it was a possibility. They knew it when they had walked through that narrow tunnel leading them to the final battle. They had known for a long time before that. Because that’s the thing with wars, people die. People always die. You can only go in head first, hoping that it won’t be you but knowing that if not you, it will be someone else. And only after you realise that maybe, if it was you, it wouldn’t hurt so fucking much. They knew it, but not this way. It had always been either or neither. Together, the way they lived. But then, Fred had entered the world first and, in fashion, he was the first to leave. Always taking the lead, but this time George didn’t follow. And now George is lost, waiting for an input. 

They were all there, all nine. It could have been anyone of them, and he thinks that it’s a little bit unfair. His family had already given so much to the war. His parents had given seven children; seven brave children, knowing every day in their hearts that war is greedy, and not always it gives back what it takes. And still, they gave, because that’s how they raised them. All seven, all different, all brave. And his parents knew that none of their children would have accepted it any other way. But that doesn’t make it easier. He sees it, in the way their faces have aged beyond their years, and the way they hold the six of them a little closer. He recognises his parents’s silent wish that it had been one of them instead.  
Dad is brave. Dad was George’s childhood hero, and now he knows why. Dad weeps silently, while he arranges matters and a funeral that no one else wants to think of.  
Mum is fury, and fierce protectiveness. She is a fire that her tears cannot extinguish. She has killed, for them. Her arms reach Fred, and at night she hold the one child she could not shelter, whispering sorries into her pillow. But, during the day, she watches her other children, and her eyes are dry and proud.  
Bill is strong, as much as the eldest child that has to bury his little brother could be. Bill is there when Dad falters, and they catch each other.  
Charlie is calm, easy comfort. He doesn’t say much, but he says the right things. Charlie stays at home for weeks and, with him, George finds that he can smile.  
Percy is guilty. Because he was there, and it happened anyway. Because, before that, he hadn’t been there for Fred in a long time, and then it was too late. And George loves Percy. He wants the guilt to go away. If George hadn’t lost his voice, he would tell him is never too late.  
George’s voice is lost. George is lost.  
Fred is dead.  
Ron is angry. But Ron has grown the most during the war. Out of them, he has risked the most, and George had worried it would have been him. But now he is not worried about Ron anymore. Ron is strong, like Bill, and if sometimes he channels his anger towards a battered Teddy Bear that once had four too many legs, George thinks that he has earned it. And when Ron cries, hugging the bear like a child and mumbling “I miss you fucking asshole”, George really misses the fucking asshole too.  
Ginny is wise, and she is not the little sister anymore. Ginny tells him what Fred would have said. She doesn’t sugarcoat it. You are alive, live. She is the one that talks about Fred the most, and George is thankful for that, because he doesn’t think he can yet, but he wants to listen.  
Well, her, and Harry. Because Harry is there. Of course he is there, he is family, the eight child.  
Harry talks of Fred, little mentions, casual, conversational. Never pitying. In his stories, Fred is alive again.  
It started, tentatively, during dinner “Once, Fred had me convinced that Molly’s special stew was made of Garden Gnomes”.  
For a moment, there was silence. Then, mum had shook her head fondly, murmuring “That boy. . .”. And George could hear Fred’s remark in his head “Ah, nothing has inspired me since quite as much as gullible 12 years old Harry Potter, so cheers for that!”.  
With Harry’s stories George can imagine Fred is there. And he knows he is not the only one being grateful. Harry speaks and, together, they all remember. 

As Harry brings Fred back into their lives, George starts to gravitate around him. At the beginning he believes it’s the compelling need to remember his twin, but as times goes he notices that he is starting to immagine Fred’s response less, and he is voicing his own instead. With Harry, George starts to feel a little like himself again.  
One night, after he lingers in the kitchen with his little brother and his friends, he understands why. Harry has conjured a jug of pumpkin juice and is pouring it into three glasses. George watches as, without a word, without questions, the other wizard reaches for a butterbeer bottle on the counter and passes it to him. George hates pumpkin juice, he finds it too sweet. The thing is, Fred didn’t. Fred always drank pumpkin juice. For years, he had to remind their mother that he finds the stuff vile. And, yet, Harry knows.  
When, finally, Ron and Hermione retire to their room, George grabs Harry’s wrist, almost painfully, and demands “How do you do that?”  
The other boy is startled and whimpers “What?”, trying to free himself.  
George’s grip is strong, and brown eyes meet green “How do you always know who I am, when I myself have no idea?”. His grip is strong but his voice wobbles.  
Harry stops struggling and shrugs “I don’t know. I guess a life of being told who I am taught me to notice the little things that make other people them”.  
“You never once called me Fred”, he insists.  
“Because you are George”.  
The intense look in Harry’s eyes tells George that he, too, wants to find himself. Wants to find his place after the war.  
For a while, they stay in the poorly lit kitchen, almost holding hands. George and Harry. 

So, when Harry eventually leaves for number 12 Grimmauld Place, with Ron and Hermione in tow, George follows. No one asks him anything, and his mother hugs him and tells him to behave. And when Ron and Hermione pack their bags for Australia, George stays. It takes a while but, in the place where two lost boys hide, they ultimately find each other.


	2. Fan art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much I just wanted to do some fanart of them 😊

https://inconsequentialmania.tumblr.com/post/189591346110/i-know-most-of-my-followers-did-so-for-draco-x


End file.
